


The Wedding of the Year

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Double Drabble, F/M, Quickie, Romance, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8276191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: Wedding in Red, the Rigsbys, to be clear. A fanficlet penned in as much haste as the story action, reacting to TM news but of course reverting immediately to a hot Jisbon quickie. We won't even try to talk canon. Okay. Total porn. Written in response to a plea from Tumblr blogger. The Mentalist? Not mine.Posted first at FFnet on August 7, 2013, now here with refining edits.





	

Teresa Lisbon floated from the bedroom in a strapless, floor length gown, dyed-to-match shoes in hand. She was a bridesmaid again and this time the dress fit perfectly, a pale green mist that hugged her body and played like a choir of heavenly angels against her eyes. The bodice was a display case for her plump, round breasts, pushing them into view and to the easy touch of anyone who would be so lucky as to have her encouragement.  


Patrick Jane, gorgeous in a tuxedo and black tie for the formal wedding and the escort of this bridesmaid, stood at the sink to finish his tea, bending to drink it over his saucer. Watching Teresa come into view, he gulped the last in one swallow, set the cup and saucer in the sink with a bit of a clatter and came to stand in front of her. His eyes told her how lovely she looked and she smiled.  


"Here, Patrick. I couldn't get the zipper all the way up in the back. Would you-?"  


He stepped behind her, all shiny shoes and golden curls, to secure the zipper in its last inch. "There you go, Teresa." He came around front again, stepping back to get the full view. "Put your shoes on."  


She set the shoes on the floor and stepped into them, balancing her hand in the one Patrick offered her. As anticipated, he was treated to a long and tantalizing look at the fluid gravimetric movements and flutterings of her cleavage as she bent to secure her shoes and stood up again. Stepping back as if to appraise the finished look, he put a hand to his chin and tapped a finger against his upper lip.  


"Hmmmmm. Something not right . . . " His eyes lit with gray-green twinkles, picking up the mist from her dress. "Let me see . . . "  


Patrick stepped behind her again, wrapped his arms loosely under her bosom and began to kiss her neck and shoulders, exposed by her upswept hair. She reacted immediately, sighing and arching her neck towards him to direct his kisses. Gooseflesh textured her skin in a moment and he knew her nipples must be erect somewhere under that easy-access bodice! He kissed her shoulders and moved his hands above the fabric in front to pet the swells of her breasts, fingering the cleavage line and slipping his long fingers deftly under the rounds as far as he could reach in. Soon she was sighing and spooning against him, rustling the dress back and forth against his hardened flesh.  


Kissing his way to her throat and chest, he pressed on a hip to turn her, then kissed her full on the mouth, not waiting for the niceties, but pressing his tongue to make her open to him. She was eager and willing. Testing the fabric for give at the bodice line, he found there was ample room to slip his hand in, using his palm to pry the cup down and fondle the naked skin. Her nipple was hard and standing. With an easy movement of his wrist, he exposed breasts and transferred his kisses there.  


None of Patrick's ploys and advances had fooled Teresa, but his manner with her was so enticing that she always wanted to play along and see what would happen next. It was never dull and almost always rewarding. And today she felt sexy in her beautiful dress and feminine underthings. Her desire for Patrick was tuned high! She opened his tented pants and reached into his underwear to take hold of a silken, fully hard erection. She stroked, petted until he was gasping for his next breath, right along with her.  


Patrick bent down to catch the hem of the dress, pushing it carefully above her hips, watching her slender legs appear with stockings and a garter belt. She caught him again as he raised up and slathered her finger across the plump head of his penis, pausing to circle and feather the little hole with its own moisture.  


His urge to penetrate her was brutal. "Ah! Oh! Stop! No, I don't mean--! Teresa! Where?"  


"The table!"  


He happened to be looking at the coffee table in the living room. "It's too low!"  


"No! The kitchen table, the kitchen table!" They covered the distance in a few steps. Teresa hiked up her dress, as crude, wanton and desirable as Patrick could have wished, and sat on the table.  


"Your panties. They're so pretty!" Patrick had dropped his underwear and trousers to his ankles, his swollen cock standing, dripping slick.  


"Just tear them! It doesn't matter. There's no time to take everything off and I don't want to wait anyway."  


He looked at her, unsure if she would regret it.  


"Now, Patrick! Right now, or I'll do it myself!"  


He looked at the lacy garters that snaked down to pin the silky stockings to her legs, the gossamer panties peeking out from under the garter belt, barely hiding the soft dark hair of her sex as it curled like delicate dark threads of lace from the leg opening. In less than three seconds, his long graceful fingers had torn the flimsy panty seam apart.  


She raised her legs and he caught them, tumbling her to the table and pushing her knees to open her wide. Guiding himself briefly with one hand, he barreled into her as she cried out in pleasure, encouraging him by pulling herself just over the table edge so that he could bury himself inside her, the dress safely bunched at her waist as he hammered away. Orgasm did not elude them and although it was over quickly, both were panting and smiling with satisfaction, dripping onto the floor.  


Patrick brought a warm wet cloth to clean up with. Teresa tidied her hair and make up and they left in plenty of time to meet up with the rest of the wedding party. Patrick opened her door and offered his hand to help her from the car, escorting her into the building. With her hand on his tuxedoed arm, and her dainty steps, no one dreamed that Teresa was now wearing open-air panties. Everyone just saw a radiant, happy couple and wondered when the next wedding would be.


End file.
